


There Is Love, I Hear His Tongue

by waitingtobelit



Series: with starry feet [9]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Poetry, Porn, Romance, Romanticism, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:52:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitingtobelit/pseuds/waitingtobelit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac asks Marius to dance on a rainy afternoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Is Love, I Hear His Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: This is my first time writing porn in awhile. Title comes from the William Blake poem, "Love and Harmony."
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Les Miserables, nor any of the poems I've quoted within. This was written purely for recreational purposes.

Heavy rain splatters against the window, almost loud enough to match the volume of the television. A period drama plays across the screen in a myriad of colors and a whirlwind of the women’s wooshing skirts. Marius thinks it might be the 2004 version of Pride and Prejudice, but he’s too lulled by the sound of the rain and Courfeyrac in his arms to really care.

He can’t help but breathe his smile onto the back of his boyfriend’s neck. Marius has always loved the lavish, at times ridiculous, token dancing sequences in period pieces. From the lovely costumes to the enchanting smiles exchanged between the starcrossed lovers, Marius always finds himself swept off his feet by such vivacious displays. Warmth fills him like a glass of mulled cider, almost makes him sleepy with contentment.

He rubs his nose into Courfeyrac’s neck, barely stifling down lethargic giggles as the protagonist and her obvious love interest begin to court each other through the dance movements of the crowd surrounding them.

“You’re such a dork, you know that?”

Marius hears the eyeroll in Courfeyrac’s voice even as Courfeyrac leans back into him, covering Marius’ arms draped across his chest with his own.

“So you remind me on a daily basis.” He replies into the dark curls of Courfeyrac’s hair.

“Yeah, but honestly, you take it to a whole ‘nother level. Who else gets this excited over gratuitous dancing scenes? Especially someone with two left feet of their own.”

Though Courfeyrac takes every opportunity to remind Marius of his “poor, bruised” feet, he never denies Marius’ requests to dance when the mood strikes him. (Marius thanks him in kisses and sweet nothings etched upon his skin whenever they bump into inanimate objects; sometimes Courfeyrac purposefully steers them in the direction of the coffee table.)

“It’s what makes me unique.” Marius’ breath catches as Courfeyrac starts tracing patterns on the backs of his wrists; they begin to thrum softly in response.

His breathing stops altogether when Courfeyrac twists in his arms to face him, lips just barely grazing against his own.

For a few, long moments, near silence, save for the movie, settles between them like the thick coat of dust now layered in Marius’ old room. Marius finds his chest constricting the longer he loses himself in Courfeyrac’s dark eyes and the luminous smile reflected within them. He feels the flush fluttering beneath his freckles and the way Courfeyrac’s grin widens in turn. He is as a feather dangling in the summer breeze, carried by the weight of Courfeyrac’s thumbs brushing against his cheeks.

“Monsieur Pontmercy,” he whispers, their breaths mingling together as almost invisible tremors run throughout Marius at Courfeyrac’s reverent tone, “might I have the next dance?”

Marius nods as he ducks his head into his chest as warmth flows through him like the quiet babbling of a brook. Courfeyrac presses their lips together before pulling away and breaking out of Marius’ embrace. Marius whimpers at the loss as Courfeyrac moves to lean down over him, offering him a hand.

He pulls Marius up, barely giving him a chance to adjust to standing before sweeping him into a haphazard waltz.

“You’re hardly better than I am.” Marius points out as Courfeyrac almost sends them flying over a wayward hardcover.

“I, at least, have a sense of rhythm. And you’re bringing the pain to my poor feet early on I see!” He winces as Marius stumbles over their feet with his usual amount of grace.

“I’m sorry.” Marius mumbles, cheeks flushing as he keeps his gaze to the floor. Courfeyrac puts a stop to that as he lifts Marius by his chin.

“Relax,” he says, leaning his forehead against Marius’, breath ghosting over his lips before bestowing a languid, tender kiss to them. “Let me lead you.”

Marius nods, his eyelids fluttering at the kiss as he relaxes into Courfeyrac’s hand on his hip and their right hands entwined. They spin about the room, the forgotten movie providing the soundtrack to their awkward movements. Courfeyrac finds every excuse to halt their progress in order to steal a kiss (several) from Marius’ trembling lips. Marius tries to prolong the moments when their mouths come together, only to have Courfeyrac twirl him away once again with a knowing gleam in his eyes.

Marius finds himself so absorbed in Courfeyrac’s movements, he starts when Courfeyrac brings them to their bedroom door.

Courfeyrac presses him into the cheap wood as he leans his forehead against Marius’ again. The world shrinks to the wood against his back and those vibrant eyes, like a fairy’s smile, that glance against his soul. Marius twists the knob as Courfeyrac pushes him through the door, kissing him with all the enthusiasm of a magpie.

When they part for air, all heaving chests and full-blown eyes, Marius savors the utter wilderness of Courfeyrac’s face, the tendrils of hair strewn about his thirsting eyes and hungry lips. They remain still for a few moments before Courfeyrac pulls Marius back into him, moving in slow circles around the room.

They dance as the rain outside continues to drum against the windows. Marius finds himself lured into an almost trance, surrounded only by Courfeyrac’s arms and the utter mess of their bedroom. Courfeyrac, catching sight of this, of course has to intervene with a spark in his eyes.

“You know, all this slow dancing is nice and all,” he begins, pulling Marius closer, leaning in to whisper in his ear as he begins to spin them faster. “But don’t you remember? All dance scenes have that one, inevitable moment of lovers spinning madly until they both collapse.”

The walls spin with them as Courfeyrac turns them faster. Marius cannot help but giggle at the way he suddenly feels five years old again; everything but Courfeyrac fades into blurs around him.

“Wait.” He protests through laughter as Courfeyrac’s smirk widens.

“Darling, this is that moment.” Without further ceremony, Courfeyrac releases his hold on Marius, sending him spiraling. Marius’ arms flail haphazardly before he lands face first on their bed.

He almost chokes on a pillow as Courfeyrac flops down beside him, curling his arms around Marius as his body shakes with giggles of his own. As Courfeyrac turns him over, Marius finds himself grinning back. He also finds himself delighting in the other man’s flushed face as they paw at each other like a pair of worn out kittens too stubborn to relinquish their games.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” Marius breathes out, rolling to lean on Courfeyrac’s arm.

“Death by Courfeyrac sounds like a lovely way to die if you ask me.” Courfeyrac sing-songs while running a hand through Marius’ newly mussed hair as though he were soothing a child to sleep.  

“You are just so ridiculous.” Marius shakes his head in response, dislodging Courfeyrac’s fingers in the process. Courfeyrac moves them to stroke across his face and trace patterns under his neck. Marius finds himself unable to stop him, or to quell the trembling of his own lips.

“Nonsense, my dear. I am ‘a close-bosom friend of the maturing sun _,_ ’ how many times must I remind you?” Courfeyrac replies with a straight face though he is incapable of dimming the mischief in his eyes. Marius’ chest constricts as the familiar words float to him in the cloud shape of Courfeyrac’s voice. He leans forward as warmth bursts in his stomach like the overwhelming presence of firelight and kisses Courfeyrac with as much fervor as he can muster.

Courfeyrac smiles into the kiss and pulls him closer, twining one hand firmly into Marius’s hair while wrapping his other arm firmly around his waist.

“Do you know what poetry sounds like coming from you?” Marius’ voice thins into wisps of breath as he slowly drags himself from Courfeyrac’s now kiss-swollen lips. “Especially Keats?”

“I have some idea, yeah.” Courfeyrac smirks as he gradually rolls to cover Marius’ body with his own, settling full upon him with another slow kiss.

“You are going to be the death of me.” Marius repeats, whimpering as Courfeyrac moves his attention from his parted lips to the trembling freckles scattered across his jawline.

“The feeling’s mutual.” Courfeyrac presses the words into the most sensitive crevice of Marius’ neck, causing him to gasp and shudder.

“You are so beautiful when you’re happy, you know that?” Courfeyrac mutters as Marius squirms, eyes fluttering as the blush expands upon his face like shadows in firelight. Even after the five months they’ve been together, and the multitude of years they’ve been friends, such genuine words of praise feel new, almost strange to Marius. He doesn’t know how to respond except to dart his eyes to the ceiling as he quivers.

“Hey.” Courfeyrac nuzzles Marius until he meets his gaze again. “It’s true, you know. I’ll prove it.”

He leans down to nudge his nose against Marius’ when he still says nothing.

“I’ll keep proving it until you believe it.” Courfeyrac’s eyes flash, illuminating the wicked smirk starting to unfurl on his face. Marius gulps.

“Courfeyrac, what are you – _oh_.” His words dissolve into whimpers as Courfeyrac envelops his right ear with his mouth, firmly sucking as his hand wanders lower on Marius’ chest.

Courfeyrac slips a hand under Marius’ shirt in a swift movement; Marius gasps at the sudden sensation of bare flesh against his own, clutching the back of Courfeyrac’s shirt as he continues his ministrations. Courfeyrac massages the heated skin of his chest at a languid pace, inspiring Marius to short intakes of breath and more prominent shuddering.

Marius finds his legs wrapping around Courfeyrac’s waist instinctively as he starts worrying his ear with his teeth. He mewls as he buries his head against Courfeyrac’s shoulder, planting kisses across whatever exposed flesh he can reach as he continues to shiver. He slides his hands under Courfeyrac’s shirt just as Courfeyrac bites down on the edge of his ear.

Marius writhes, back arching off the bed as he moans, nails digging into Courfeyrac’s skin.

“Gorgeous.” Courfeyrac mutters, his own breath shallow and unsteady at the strength of Marius’ grasp.

He pulls back as Marius falls back on the bed, tugging at Marius’ shirt until Marius lifts his arms in compliance. Courfeyrac drags the shirt up and off his trembling body, carelessly tossing the garment behind him as Marius tugs at Courfeyrac’s own shirt.

Marius groans, leaning back into the pillow beneath him as Courfeyrac ignores his hands pulling at his back in order to lean down and kiss his way down Marius’ neck. Marius’ hands stop at their grabbing, digging into Courfeyrac’s skin instead.  Courfeyrac seems determined to set him on fire, rolling his hips into Marius almost languidly. His kisses grow less refined the further he moves down Marius’ neck. All the while, Marius quivers, unable to contain the minute, obscene noises escaping from his lips.

Marius grips at Courfeyrac’s arms as Courfeyrac trails his lips down further, ceasing the movement of his hips as he kisses Marius’ chest with all the gradual intensity of a poet composing verses. Marius’ toes curl from where they rest on the back of Courfeyrac’s hips; Courfeyrac presses his kisses with more fervor into his chest. Marius wonders that he doesn’t’ implode just as Courfeyrac’s hands join his lips, dissolving all coherent thought as he trembles at Courfeyrac’s touch.

“Courfeyrac.” He gasps as the man continues roaming across his chest.

“You are so lovely when you’re happy.” Courfeyrac says between kisses around his belly-button, causing Marius to pant. “You don’t even realize it when your smile lights up a room and you should.”

Courfeyrac kisses his way back up Marius’ chest, leaning back momentarily as he allows Marius to finally pull his shirt off. He groans with Marius as he lowers himself so that their chests come together. Marius’ rapid breathing almost aligns with the myriad of tremors running through his body; the pace of it quickens when he feels Courfeyrac trembling above him.

Their mouths meet as Courfeyrac moves his hand lower, Courfeyrac prying Marius’ lips apart with his tongue. Marius can barely hear the patter of the rain against their bedroom window as he sinks further into the constant song of their lips parting and coming back together.

He arches again when Courfeyrac reaches the waistline of his jeans, flickering open the button before coming to the zipper. Marius clings to Courfeyrac, drags his hands down his bare back in time with the way Courfeyrac undoes his zipper.

“‘Teach us, Sprite or Bird, what sweet thoughts are thine.’” Courfeyrac breathes against his cheek.

“Did you just call me a bird?” Marius pouts indignantly.

“Hush, darling. You’re killing the romance.” Courfeyrac rolls his eyes and kisses Marius’ nose. “Have you never read Shelley?”

“I’ve read Frankenstein, yeah.”

“I meant Percy Shelley.”

“Oh, well then, no.”

Courfeyrac gasps dramatically, tossing the back of his hand against his forehead as though struck suddenly with a case of the vapors. “No? My God, how can I even associate with you? Never read any Shelley and claims to love poetry. What a fraud!”

“Courfeyrac!” Marius pushes at his chest as he tries not to giggle himself, squeaking when Courfeyrac starts kissing his neck in retaliation.

“See? You’re lovely even when you’re worked up!” Courfeyrac grins as his hands start roaming again.

Marius rolls his eyes and shakes his head, miniscule whimpers escaping his lips as Courfeyrac’s hands wander lower with each passing second.

Courfeyrac pauses, parted mouth poised above Marius’ own.

“‘A Thing of beauty is a joy forever.’” He presses a gentle kiss to Marius, who stumbles over his words as he blushes and tries not to look Courfeyrac in the eye.

“I’ve said it before, I’ll keep saying it until you believe me: you are so cute when you blush, dear.”

Marius tries to bury his head in the pillow next to him, but Courfeyrac prevents this with another searing kiss as he tangles a hand into Marius’ hair, grinning like a mockingbird all the while.

“You’re only being more endearing, wee lamb.”

“I’ve told you to stop calling me that _oh_.” Marius mewls as Courfeyrac snakes his hand down his pants and squeezes. He arches, tightening his legs around his lover’s waist. Above him, even with his disheveled eyes and unruly hair, Courfeyrac still appears more composed than Marius feels.

“I’m sorry, what was that wee lamb?” He mock pouts at him, an absurd contortion of his face that provokes Marius into more giggling. As he shakes beneath Courfeyrac, head tossed back against the pillows and bared neck quivering with laughter, Marius’ right leg jolts suddenly, accidentally kicking his boyfriend in the back. Courfeyrac winces, pulling out his hand as he swears under his breath.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” Marius exclaims, hurriedly pulling back his leg and leaning up to try and catch a glimpse at his boyfriend’s back. Courfeyrac waves it off, still smiling as he pulls Marius’ leg back to its former position and nudges him back into the sheets.

“You’re adorable even when you have nothing to be sorry for.” He says, leaning back down to kiss each freckle on his face, one hand wandering back down the slope of Marius body to the edge of his pants.

Marius licks his lips, waiting for the sure grasp that never comes; instead, Courfeyrac attacks with his fingers along his ribcage, tips dancing across the outlines of his bones. He erupts in a shriek of laughter, clinging to Courfeyrac with his legs as he shakes from the force of his mirth.

Courfeyrac giggles with him, unrelenting in his tickle attack before suddenly shoving his hand into Marius’ pants once again. Marius moans, hips thrusting up in search of further friction.

“Courfeyrac,” he gasps, face utterly encased in a sheen of light red, “Courfeyrac, _please_.”

Courfeyrac pauses, moving his hand so that the edges of his fingers just brush against Marius as he considers the request, a rogue smile decorating his face.

“You know, I think we are both entirely too clothed for this occasion.” He declares as he withdraws his hand and Marius mourns the loss in short, uttered gasps. “We should fix that, no?”

At the absence of Courfeyrac’s hand, Marius feels coherency flick against his skin like the wings of butterflies; no impact that sticks, but movement enough to leave an impression before dissolving. He whimpers as he strives for more contact with his hips. Courfeyrac remains still against his movements, much to his frustration. Warmth courses through him as he attempts to make sense of Courfeyrac’s words.

“Marius?” Courfeyrac asks as Marius shakes his head.

“Yes, yes please.” He finally grasps at what he means to say, and Courfeyrac almost blinds him with the smile he gives in return.

They stumble out of their remaining clothing – Marius entangles himself in the ankles of his jeans and almost falls off the bed; Courfeyrac’s zipper catches on the fabric of his heart-covered boxers. Courfeyrac almost rips said boxers as he tries to pull them off; Marius bangs his head against the wall with a startled yelp as they maneuver to fully undress themselves. Between sloppy kisses, they exchange more curses and mumbled apologies.

They manage to banish all pieces of clothing to whichever strip of floor each article happens to land upon once they manage to right themselves, Marius leaning back against the wall as Courfeyrac leans over him.

“You are the cutest when you’re naked.” Courfeyrac informs him as he nuzzles his still aching head. Marius ducks his head and tries to will away the blush that spreads from his cheeks to his neck and the very top of his chest.  This does nothing to deter Courfeyrac’s lips as they begin a new, more wayward path down Marius’ chest.

His breath comes in ragged bursts as Courfeyrac begins to knead his stomach with his teeth. He shudders and sinks into the sheets as though he were falling through water, one hand dragging down Courfeyrac’s back as the other curls in on itself within the cotton material. As his head hits the edge of the pillows, he finds the ceiling and the walls spiraling as though he were still dancing; he whines as Courfeyrac’s tongue cavorts across his lower abdomen before abruptly pulling away.

“Please, please.” Marius pants as Courfeyrac moves off him to crawl over to the opposite end of the bed. Courfeyrac plucks lube and a condom from their bedside table; Marius’ chest heaves, his heated body squirming against the even warmer sheets as Courfeyrac makes his way back to him. He pulls Courfeyrac down to him by the hair, leaning up to press the desire pulsing through him into Courfeyrac’s lips.

He grins as he swallows Courfeyrac’s own whimpers and moans, savoring the resulting shivers they inspire in him as he twines his hand further in Courfeyrac’s hair. Courfeyrac starts to roll his hips, and Marius’ back arches like the curve of a whip as he groans into Courfeyrac’s knowing smile.

“Fuck.” He pulls away panting, mouth parted and swollen, dark curls framing his face so that he resembles a debauched angel. Marius whines both at the loss of contact and the intensity of Courfeyrac’s gaze upon his trembling body.

“So beautiful.” Courfeyrac almost whispers with reverence as he opens the bottle next to him, beginning to coat three fingers. Marius spreads his legs as Courfeyrac moves to settle more fully between them, stroking across Marius’ stomach with his uncoated hand. He gasps at the touch, light as a feather yet still with friction enough to send flickering sparks through his veins. Courfeyrac’s hand glides across his skin until it almost glances against Marius’ cock before Courfeyrac pulls his hand away.

Marius whimpers, leaning up slightly to reach for him. Courfeyrac moves with all the speed and certainty of a striking snake, pinning both of Marius’ wrists above his head with one hand and teasing his entrance with the other. He leans down to capture Marius’ lips with his own as he slips one finger inside of him.

Marius mewls into Courfeyrac’s mouth as his body undulates in time with how Courfeyrac moves his finger back and forth inside of him, delicate like a musician testing the strings of a violin. He deepens the kiss, pressing Marius further into the mattress and tightening his grip on his wrists as he quickens his movements.

Marius whines and gasps, unable to keep his body from trembling as Courfeyrac adds a second finger and drags his lips from his mouth to his cheek to his neck. He thrusts his fingers in and out in a steady rhythm, twisting them slightly each time he pulls them out.  Marius struggles against the hold on his arms as Courfeyrac groans into his neck just above his pulse point, the bruising friction between his hand and Marius’ wrists only adding to the desire consuming him.

 Marius writhes violently and nearly shrieks when the tips of Courfeyrac’s fingers glance against his prostate; he feels Courfeyrac smirk as he sucks on his skin and adds a third finger, focusing his movement in the direction of that precious spot; Marius shudders, his voice cracking as Courfeyrac’s fingers consistently find their target.

Marius moans and writhes harder as Courfeyrac stretches him thoroughly, blurting out how much he adores Courfeyrac’s fingers and Courfeyrac himself in between gasps and nonsensical whimpers that once might have been words.

“I know, darling.” He embosses the words into Marius’ skin, gnawing and licking them into marks he won’t be able to hide. He doesn’t need to say anything more; Marius feels the weight of his unspoken meaning in the adoration of his mouth upon his skin.

He slows his movements as he kisses his way back up to Marius’ lips, pulling out entirely as he releases his wrists. Marius whines as he leans back to grab the foil packet next to the bottle; Courfeyrac assures him with several lingering caresses down his cheek as he opens and rolls on the condom near expertly before putting the bottle of lube to use again.  His movements are steady, yet hurried. Marius pants all the more at the way Courfeyrac’s own hands shake, too.

“You are the loveliest thing in the world. Anyone who says otherwise is wrong. I will write sonnets to prove it to them, if I must.” Courfeyrac leans back down to press the words into his lips, eyes gleaming like candlewicks in the late afternoon. Said words turn into kisses, small, sweet kisses, as he holds himself above Marius for one moment longer.

“I love you.” Marius utters the words like a prayer.

“More than period dances?” Courfeyrac’s grin glitters above him, but Marius doesn’t miss the flush coloring the entirety of his face or the tightening of his hands as they settle on his hips. His own smile widens.

“Yes of course – _oh_.” His whole body tenses as Courfeyrac pushes into him slow and steady with a loud moan; he groans, wrapping his legs around his waist. As Courfeyrac settles into him, holding himself still so that Marius can adjust, Marius takes advantage of his liberated hands by tangling them both in Courfeyrac’s hair, head falling back into the pillows as his chest constricts.

“You are so lovely.” Courfeyrac pants into Marius’ ear as he pushes all the way inside of him.

“So are you.” He whispers back into the dark curls; and then Courfeyrac starts moving.

Marius winces at the initial pain but allows himself to relax into Courfeyrac’s hands and the kisses he starts pressing against his cheek. Their mouths eventually meet in a collision of tongues and teeth as Courfeyrac gradually builds his pace, Marius moving one hand out of his hair to drag down his back. They dissolve into helpless moans and whimpers as Marius sucks on Courfeyrac’s tongue and Courfeyrac digs his nails deeper into Marius’ hips.

Marius starts meeting Courfeyrac’s thrusts with those of his own, his body writhing as he twines one hand further in Courfeyrac’s hair and digs the other further into his back.

“Fuck.” Courfeyrac breaks their kiss to move down Marius’ neck again, finding his most sensitive patches of skin and biting down. Marius almost screams, burying his head into Courfeyrac’s shoulder as his body trembles harder; Courfeyrac increases his pace and alters his angle with a devilish grin pressed into Marius’ pulse point.

They move like waves crashing against the shore, their bodies pushing and pulling each other towards a more definite collision. Marius tightens his legs around Courfeyrac’s waist, desperate for anything to hold onto as Courfeyrac brings one hand from his hip to stroke firmly down his chest. He latches onto Courfeyrac’s ear with his teeth just as Courfeyrac brushes against the part of Marius that always reduces him to a quivering, whimpering wreck.

His mouth falls from Courfeyrac’s ear as he screams, his entire body arching as extreme pleasure shoots through him like electricity.

“So beautiful.” Courfeyrac murmurs as he brings his hand down to Marius’ stomach, rubbing circles into his skin as he aims for that spot over and over again.

“I love you.” Marius gasps as Courfeyrac starts thrusting into him harder and faster. He keeps repeating it, like a mantra, as Courfeyrac wraps his hand around his cock and squeezes.

He groans, unable to stop shaking or gasping his love into Courfeyrac’s ear as Courfeyrac strokes him in time with his thrusts, harder yet more erratic than before. Courfeyrac starts to shake above him as he leans down to whisper nonsensical sweet nothings against Marius’ cheek.

Marius breaks first, body snapping like a rubber band released when Courfeyrac’s thumb glances against the tip of his cock just as he brushes against his prostate. He moans out Courfeyrac’s name, unable to contain his shivering as pleasure bursts throughout him and his hands go slack against Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac crushes his lips to Marius’, kissing him even more passionately throughout his orgasm. He only lasts for a few more thrusts before he, too, falls apart, moaning Marius’ name into his mouth as Marius holds him through his own orgasm.

Courfeyrac collapses onto Marius, still joined with him as they both attempt to catch their breaths.

“I was right.” Courfeyrac announces moments later, moving to rest his chin on Marius’ chest.

“About?” Marius asks, tilting his head in confusion.

“You are so beautiful when you’re happy.” He grins before bestowing a quick kiss to his lips. Marius blushes but says nothing, his typical way of acquiescing to Courfeyrac.

He does, however, whine when Courfeyrac leans up and pulls out.

“Hush, dear. I’m just making us both more comfortable.” He says as he rolls off the condom and throws it towards the trashcan in the opposite corner of the room. He wrinkles his nose when he misses. “Ah, well. We can clean that up later.”

Marius rolls his eyes, knowing full well he’ll be the one to take care of that mess. Still, he does not hesitate when Courfeyrac lays back down and opens his arms to him, snuggling as close to him as he can possibly get.

They curl into each other and stay quiet for a few more minutes.

 “You should ask me to dance more often.” Marius breathes into the skin of Courfeyrac’s neck, nuzzling his head against his chin. Courfeyrac pulls him closer, kissing the top of his thoroughly wrecked hair.

“Funny, I was just hoping for another dance after dinner.” He strokes his face with the tenderness of a paintbrush against glass. Marius presses a kiss to his neck in response.

“Maybe that can be our dessert?” He asks, dwelling on the possibilities of Courfeyrac and chocolate as his eyes begin to flutter; a yawn escapes his lips even as he smiles.

“I do have a rather unfortunate habit of playing with my food.” Courfeyrac says, mischief rampant in his tone. “And you would look so good covered in whipped cream and a cherry on top.”

Marius, flushed as ever, lets his eyes fall shut just as Courfeyrac begins whispering filthy promises in his ears.

They decide that dinner can wait until after dessert.

**Author's Note:**

> "A close-bosom friend of the maturing sun" comes from Keats' "To Autumn"
> 
> “Teach us, Sprite or Bird, what sweet thoughts are thine" comes from Percy Shelley's "To A Skylark"
> 
> “A Thing of beauty is a joy forever" comes from Keats' poem of the same name


End file.
